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And so began the illegal apprenticeship of Bryndolin from Hearthshire.
For six months, the days the two spent together were nearly the same. By day, she would train. By night, she would train. While the routines and the drills differed, the general routine of the day was the same. The biggest difference, however, were the locations. Her master had some strange liking to training in a different place every day. Some days they were in a field doing drills. Some days they were on the rooftops of the Capital. Bryn never quite cared enough to ask why they were constantly switching locations, though it did leave her quite curious.
In six months, Bryn had shown much progress. Her master never told her whether or not she was strong enough to be a Knight, though her questioning always led him to the same lesson: “Knighthood requires more than strength alone.” To Bryn it sounded like empty platitudes, but not once did she complain or question the teachings she received. Yet, even if she weren’t strong enough after only six months, she had shown signs of progress.
She now carried a sword at her side, a sleek and slender thrusting sword her master had called a rapier. The weapon suited her well, as it taught her the need of precision. A rapier could not block the blows of most weapons, nor was slashing effective. To fight with a rapier meant the wielder must be precise. Their blow must be mortal, most likely a stab to the heart. The lack of a reliable guard meant the wielder must also be agile, lest they die when they commit to their own attacks. Bryn was both. Her lighter frame, along with that natural grace with which most women naturally moved, made her a perfect candidate to wield such a weapon. She wore no metal plating, as it would only slow her down.
In those six months, Bryn seldom cut her hair. While it never grew out past her chin, there were many days after training where she ended up with hair matted in her face. Her master insisted she kept up with the boyish appearance, but with so many men having somewhat longer hair… Even now, her hair sat at the comfortable length of just above her jaw, with her bangs completely chopped down. She still looked feminine, but with loose fitting shirt and pants, along with her long coat she always wore, her face was the only tell. To those who didn’t know any better, she just had the misfortune of being a boy with a pretty face.
Today was one of those days where she was drenched in sweat, strands of hair sticking messily to her face. Today’s exercise had not only been rigorous, but it had also been the first day she and her master truly sparred. He held nothing back, or at least that’s what he said. While she had started out confident, he crushed her each and every match. She was faster, more agile, but her master was stronger. He was more experienced, which no speed or agility would beat. He seemingly knew every move before she made it, while she could barely move out of the way of his most basic attacks.
After sparring for almost 2 hours, Bryn sheathes her weapon and rests herself on one knee, her gaze going past him and out to the vast cliff edge before them. Master had insisted they spar upon the mountain top, though as usual she never got an answer as to why. The view was beautiful, to say the least. While Bryn wasn’t much of a person to pay attention to scenery, she couldn’t help but admired the vast fields of Irilea, with the massive Capital towering over it all.
"Master... I can't. My energy is spent. I can barely lift my sword, and I..."
For six months, the days the two spent together were nearly the same. By day, she would train. By night, she would train. While the routines and the drills differed, the general routine of the day was the same. The biggest difference, however, were the locations. Her master had some strange liking to training in a different place every day. Some days they were in a field doing drills. Some days they were on the rooftops of the Capital. Bryn never quite cared enough to ask why they were constantly switching locations, though it did leave her quite curious.
In six months, Bryn had shown much progress. Her master never told her whether or not she was strong enough to be a Knight, though her questioning always led him to the same lesson: “Knighthood requires more than strength alone.” To Bryn it sounded like empty platitudes, but not once did she complain or question the teachings she received. Yet, even if she weren’t strong enough after only six months, she had shown signs of progress.
She now carried a sword at her side, a sleek and slender thrusting sword her master had called a rapier. The weapon suited her well, as it taught her the need of precision. A rapier could not block the blows of most weapons, nor was slashing effective. To fight with a rapier meant the wielder must be precise. Their blow must be mortal, most likely a stab to the heart. The lack of a reliable guard meant the wielder must also be agile, lest they die when they commit to their own attacks. Bryn was both. Her lighter frame, along with that natural grace with which most women naturally moved, made her a perfect candidate to wield such a weapon. She wore no metal plating, as it would only slow her down.
In those six months, Bryn seldom cut her hair. While it never grew out past her chin, there were many days after training where she ended up with hair matted in her face. Her master insisted she kept up with the boyish appearance, but with so many men having somewhat longer hair… Even now, her hair sat at the comfortable length of just above her jaw, with her bangs completely chopped down. She still looked feminine, but with loose fitting shirt and pants, along with her long coat she always wore, her face was the only tell. To those who didn’t know any better, she just had the misfortune of being a boy with a pretty face.
Today was one of those days where she was drenched in sweat, strands of hair sticking messily to her face. Today’s exercise had not only been rigorous, but it had also been the first day she and her master truly sparred. He held nothing back, or at least that’s what he said. While she had started out confident, he crushed her each and every match. She was faster, more agile, but her master was stronger. He was more experienced, which no speed or agility would beat. He seemingly knew every move before she made it, while she could barely move out of the way of his most basic attacks.
After sparring for almost 2 hours, Bryn sheathes her weapon and rests herself on one knee, her gaze going past him and out to the vast cliff edge before them. Master had insisted they spar upon the mountain top, though as usual she never got an answer as to why. The view was beautiful, to say the least. While Bryn wasn’t much of a person to pay attention to scenery, she couldn’t help but admired the vast fields of Irilea, with the massive Capital towering over it all.
"Master... I can't. My energy is spent. I can barely lift my sword, and I..."